


Gently Down

by Belkiney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Delusions, Depression, M/M, feathers - Freeform, human!Cas, tw: Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belkiney/pseuds/Belkiney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd said that this was going to the last thing they did. Close the gates forever and be done with it. Yet, after the fiasco that sent angels hurtling from Heaven the boys set off to fix a broken world. With angels walking among humans, as humans, they'll be more trouble than anyone could have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flip A Coin

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Unbeta'd so if there any mistakes please just send me a message and I'll fix them. I appreciate any and all comments! I'll be posting chapter 2 on Thursday.

Flip a Coin

     The world was warm. Warm like the first rays of sunlight sweeping across an open field illuminating the drops of dew, light like the smell of honeysuckle after a gentle rain, and it enveloped him in its hazy serenity. Dean blinked against the sugary glow one hand moving to over his eyes as they adjusted. Maybe he ought to be shocked but this wasn't the first time he'd woken up in some foreign place. At least nothing was trying to kill him yet, small blessings. He looked around warily, above him the sky was an expanse of fluffy clouds streaked with the colors of first light. The ribbons of gold, pink, and orange shifted into shapes and patterns in some weird version of the Northern Lights. Below him the ground was soft, and running his hands through it it dawned on him what he was sitting on it. Dean shook his hand to stir the feathers up and watched them lift slightly then float back down to the pile. Feathers, the ground was coated in nine inches of pristine white feathers.

     Okay, that was odd. Standing Dean walked a circle noting that, as far as he could see, there was nothing but the shifting patterns of the sky and the feathers until the two converged on the horizon. Without much else to do he started to walk, unsure of his locations or direction Dean marched on tensely. Whatever this was he doubted it was any good and he needed to get back to Sammy.

     Time was irrelevant here as nothing seemed to change. His feet and leg screamed at him for walking for what had felt like hour but the sky was unchanging in its consistency and the field of feathers seemed to never end. Dean surveyed the area for the umpteenth time before resigning himself to taking a break. He wasn't hungry or thirsty and without the soreness of his legs he'd swear that he'd done nothing. Irritated that he was stuck in another shit situation Dean dug his hands into the fluffy down around him and started to pile it around him like a petulant child. One final swipe of his hands and he'd cleared a small section enough to see the actual ground. It was concrete, or he thought it was, but alone its rough surface were familiar chalky black lines.

     In a frenzy Dean began to route through the feathers. On his hands and knees he moved through them, throwing feathers above his head as he followed the growing pattern of lines. He was covered in the fluffy feathers that were sneaking down his shirt and tangling in his hair by time he'd reached and dug out the lifeless form. Her mousy brown hair splayed around her face, barely concealing lifeless eyes. The burnt impression of what used to be her wings hidden largely by the thick coating of fluff. Dean sucked in a breath so sharply it rattled against his lungs and wondered what creature was lurking here that could kill angels, the thought chilled his spine. He had nothing but the general things he kept in his pockets which was barely enough to break into a building let alone kill whatever this was.

     "Cas..?" He whispered softly letting himself look at each rise in the white just long enough to picture the body beneath, it was a miracle he hadn't tripped over one when he was walking.

     Tension coiled in his shoulders causing him to start again. Now he could see, really see the feathers around him to notice the imperfections in it. Every few yards there were rises and dips in the blanket of white. Moving to the one closest to him he nudged at the bottom of the mound where his boot met the firmness of another body. He bent over where he figured the head was and parted the feathers enough to see that it wasn't a dorky accountant before moving to the next. Fear pounded against his ears and he moved from body to body each time more frantic than the last. One hand in his pocket gripped tightly around his pocket knife in case whatever had kill them showed itself

 

* * *

 

     Coughing. Dean heard coughing through the walls of his room. He stared blankly at the ceiling, which spun with the faint patterns of a shifting sky, counting the beats of his heart before swinging his head over the side of his bed. Was he ever going to get to just sleep, he thought wryly to himself. He brushed of tendrils of doubt and worry that clung to him, for now he was going to ignore that that "dream" felt more like his trip to 2014 then any nighttime rendezvous in satin panties. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, under the hem of shirt rubbing at the knot that was forming there. Staring into the darkness of his room he stared out into the nothingness until more coughing roused him into action.

     Sammy was sitting as his favorite study table typing away at his laptop, a cup of steaming coffee sitting in a dangerous position between his elbow and the table's edge. As he got closer Dean inwardly cringed, Sam looked terrible. His eyes were sunken in surrounded in purple depressions that were starting to yellow around the edges, the normal tan expanse of his skin was pale and pasty with uneven splotches of sickly red. Sammy's appearance was a constant reminder these days that it was his fault his brother was so sick. He let his brother, his one responsibility, believe that he was unloved. Dean hated seeing his brother like this and wanted nothing more than to wipe Sam's slate clean. Instead, he pulled a thick blanket from the back of a chair and draped it across Sammy's shoulders.

     "Really, Dean?", Sam retorted softly despite grabbing at the edge of the blanket and pulling it tighter around himself. Dean scoffed and sat in the chair adjacent Sam, reaching over to pull the coffee out of the danger zone and sip at it gingerly. One taste of the foul drink and he pulled a face that made Sam laugh. Not quite the genuine sound Dean preferred, but better than nothing.

     "Yeah, uhh, it's a little burnt."

     "Ugh, you'd think we live in squalor," Dean grunted pushing the cup away, "You can just make a new pot."

     "Because you'd don't get irritated if I use that fancy espresso machine you lugged in here wrong." Dean just shrugged and stretched languidly in his chair waiting for Sam to tell him why he was up at 7:30 a.m. looking at.

     "So, get this," Sam announced looking up to meet his brother's eyes in recognition. Turning the computer enough for the two of them to look at it Sam pulled up several different websites, all of which meant nothing to Dean.

     "Look at this," Sam pointed at the weather map, "There have been reports of clustered meteor showers all over the country, internationally even."

     And -"

     "Let me finish! Around each reported meteor shower there have been dozens of people calling in saying they have seen UFOs and aliens but when the police, or in some cases over curious locals, go to check it out they find nothing except one, sometimes two or three, confused people milling around. I guess they've sent some of the "people" at the sites to sanitariums. I'd bet the government might have picked up a few. I mean, Dean, angels literally fell from the sky." Sam looked at Dean, his eyes wide and breathless with excitement. When Dean only cocked an eyebrow he gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

     "Fell from the sky, for everyone to see. People are panicking!"

     And this is different from any other day how? It's now our prob -"

     "Stop, yes it is. We made it our problem years ago. I know you want me to sit around a heal, but I can't. I feel like we need to at least look. Come on, maybe one of them know where Cas is." Sam's voice lowered at the last and he looked up the gauge Dean's face.

     Dean looked down at the table quickly his eyes tracing the grains of wood that were older than he was. The last time he'd seen gas in that little bar Dean has steeled himself knowing it would be the last. He'd prepared to say everything he'd always wanted but remained quite, unable to really bear the thought of never seeing that nerdy dude ever again. Dean has secretly pined for him since, well, he was lifted from perdition. Something about Cas has always resonated with him. Even now when he was having hyper realistic dreams of dead angels and feathers what had scared him the most was the thought that beneath that layer of white was Cas.

     Of course, he'd never told anyone about the swirl of emotions inside of him but Sam knew. He always did. Sam moved a hand like he was going to reach out, but thought better of it.

     "He couldn't have known that what he was doing would lead to the Host falling. Hell, Dean, it may not have even been him. Wherever Cas is I'm sure he could use some help. Hundreds of angels fell that night so It can't be too hard to find just one," he chimed optimistically.

     Dean just shook his head with a brief laugh. They'd been here less than a week and Dean was halfway torn between both options. They could leave to find Cas and Sammy would heal slower not to mention they were bound to get into a life threatening situation or twenty, or they could stay, Sammy would heal up nice and quick with no interruptions and Dean could get some well deserved sleep. He felt Sam's eyes on him waiting for an answer.

     Dean gave a long-suffering sigh, "Sure, fine. Great. We'll head out in two days. Deal? That way you can rest and do nothing while I get Baby ready."

     Sam nodded loosely happy that he'd won out in the end. He couldn't sit here and do nothing with the possibility of Cas wandering aimlessly, powerlessly around, also, he knew that inside that meticulously put together mask of hardened hunter Dean wanted him.


	2. Roll the Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being human goes without the control and organization Grace allows, certainly when emotions now bubble to the surface of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't my favorite chapter, but it is a necessary one. Hope you enjoy the build up:D

Roll The Dice

  
          Looking towards Heaven and watching his brothers and sisters fall his newly human heart shattered. An explosion of all to familiar emotion burst through his heart, a lead ball dropping heavily into the pit of his stomach. Despair was not an emotion unfamiliar to him, he was (used to be?) an angel not a machine, but it was experienced through a veil of grace that somehow diminished the intensity. The feelings that pull at him now wracked his body and coiled venomously inside his body. His small, frail human body. That night had been the first time Cas had ever cried.  
  


          In this state he was the vessel to emotion and physical sensation. After the tears of watching the Host fall from heaven the weight of grief settled onto his shoulders in a dull ache that Cas couldn’t shake. Beyond the emotional exertion of his body came physical needs he’d underestimated while sitting in the ivory blanket of Grace. Hunger of every sort drummed against him too, pressure demanded he relieve himself immediately, and exhaustion made his legs shake and eyes stutter trying close.  
  


 

          Biggerson’s, in a way, became home over the next few days. Castiel wandered from one town to the next on foot or with help from the occasional driver who would stop long enough for him to climb into the back of a tattered old truck. Those days he would get farther than just one town and could often end up in cities. Regardless of the size he could always find his way to one of these familiar chains. Naturally, by time he found one and was seated at a table his human form growled in protest at going so long without nourishment, his head pounded ruefully at the lack of water. This constant need to take in energy to sustain himself was something Castiel believed he would never be accustomed.

          So, he flipped open the cheap phone again and stared down at the blank screen. Fifteen missed calls and twenty-four text messages. The Winchesters, as he collectively referred to him now that giving the men singularity caused his emotions to flare, were trying to find him much to his expectation. Cas stared down into the black void of coffee and found himself torn. He wanted both to isolate himself from this world of his Father’s creation, to be completely alone so he could wallow in this complete emptiness and to run full-tilt to the company of the Winchesters where their rhythm could drown out the sound of his own thoughts. Candidly, Castiel mused that this is what depression must feel like. A never ending question with no certain answer, no certain path. He’d always had a path, no matter how misguided, and it served as his guiding light and reasoning. Without such a call he found himself angry, sad, furious, anxious, scared, and taut all in a swirl of black that felt like an oppressing fog. This was why he had yet to reach to them, for fear that he would be incapable of handling his thoughts.

          Castiel loathed feeling so insignificant. He used to move through the world and now he moved in it, he could hardly understand how more humans didn’t suffocate under the constant emotional turmoil. Did it ever cease? Having Grace made everything very pragmatic as it was much easier to separate the necessary from the emotional and make informed decisions. Now his thoughts were in knots with his emotions and nothing made sense. Finishing off the last swill of his coffee Castiel stood preparing to leave. Days had passed since his last attempt to ‘fly’ so there was little need to torment himself with the thought now, yet hope blossomed in his chest momentarily. Instead he simply walked from the restaurant and started down the street.

          Half a days walk put him on the outskirts of Denver, it’s skyscrapers reaching towards the sky out of a mass of smaller buildings. From the sky he imaged the criss-cross of streets and smiled fondly remembering when he’d looked down fondly at humankind and wondered what it would be like. Cars blurred by him and Castiel lost himself to the hum of the road.

              _I am here._

             Castiel stopped abruptly, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. The sound of Enochian reverberating gong-like was unmistakable and it arrested him on the spot. He couldn’t tell who’s voice it was, but he’d heard it. Running now, irritated it was as fast as his human body could move, it felt like he was only inching closer to the sound. The voice, his brother or sister, repeated the same three words inconsistently, but it grew louder as he neared the city.

Darkness had fallen around him by time he stopped in front of the building where he thought the signal was the strongest. Every muscle screamed at him from the exertion. His entire body was spasming while Castiel silently thanked whoever was listening, certainly not God, that Jimmy Novak had kept his body in good condition. He had not heard the call in hours, but it had drawn him here. Castiel had felt it and he refused to believe the all too human doubt that soured his mouth. Looking through the darkness he read the sign “Denver Botanic Gardens” thoughtfully. It was not surprising to him that an angel had gravitated toward a garden, it was a place familiar to each of them.

Breaking into the building proved to be easy, just a maneuver with a plastic card he’s seen the Winchesters use before. The alarm system inside was inactive, the buildings many corridors deserted peaking Castiels curiosity. Whichever of his siblings was here had, in a human state, retained enough power to force their will on the spaces around them.  It dawned on him that walking towards a beacon with no idea who was at the other end was ridiculous. He pushed through another set of doors and was about to turn around when Castiel saw the garden.

          The plants and flowers were much like his favorite Heaven and he reached out to trace his fingers around the delicate petals of a purple lily. No sooner had he reached out has his human mind been derailed from his task and he began to walk aimlessly through the rows of fauna deeply intrigued, tendrils of sadness and longing lapping at his heart as each plant reminded him of home and the idea he may never see Heaven again. Cas found himself saving a pond with large metal structures set into the water and lowered himself to sit at the edge.

          “Hello?”

          _Oh!_ His mind snapped back with abrupt clarity to what he was doing here in the first place. He sworn mentally at letting himself succumb to memory so easily, turning to see where the voice at some from. In the darkness he saw nothing but the vague outline outline of trees and a distant gazebo  
.

          “It’s fortuitous that it would be you who found me first, Castiel” The form of a man moved toward him now, wearing an apron and holding himself with great poise Castiel recognizes him in this human form almost immediately.

          “Joshua.” It was a statement that Castiel needs him to reaffirm.

          “Hello, Castiel.” came Joshua’s serene reply, he spread his hands away from his body as if to display himself for scrutiny.

“How have you retained this much of your power?”

          “I don’t know, where are Sam and Dean?”

          “I’m -- unsure.”

          Joshua looked at him quizzically and made a face that suggested he thought it was odd that Castiel didn't at the very least know where they are. The conversation was informative from there, Joshua didn’t know the location of any one else and had used the majority of his stretch to send out the signal he wasn’t sure anyone would hear. He sat quietly for a long while allowing Castiel to slip back into memories of occasions very similar to this before the apocalypse or anything catastrophic happened. Joshua inhaled sharply and he sensed the one question he would rather avoid was bubbling to the surface, Joshua was had always been perceptive and it was not surprising when he accurately assumed Castiel knew the gory details.

          “Why did we fall? Was it those boys?” For the first time in the vast amount of time Castiel had known Joshua this was was the first time he’d heard even a hint anger come from him.

          “Tell me what happened Castiel, please.” Joshua sounded desperate, his voice being forced to remain normal.

          “I--”

          “I would appreciate the truth.”, he added quickly with a careful shrug of his shoulders. Castiel noted how he too was struggling to remain above the sway of human emotion and stay collected. It shouldn’t have hurt Castiel so deeply, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Every event of the last few years was in some way connected to him. Guilt shuddered inside him again, Castiel was slowly growing used to the way it settled against him.

          He ran a hand across the back of his neck, a gesture he wasn’t quite sure when he’d picked up, and told him. Told Joshua about how he’d been tricked into believing Metatron was serving Heaven’s best interest not his own personal agenda along with the happenings of the last year. During the whole story Joshua loomed patiently over him, soaking in the details.

          Finally, after a silence that stretched long enough to make Castiel uncomfortable Joshua nodded to himself as if he was thinking. In these human forms they seemed unable to keep the supernatural stillness of angels.

          “We need to get back to Heaven.”

          “How?”, Castiel whispered weakly, feeling like if he were even try to regain access to Heaven again God himself would walk into the light if only to send him into the Pit.

          “I don’t know, but I know where we should start.” Castiel waited now for the inevitable, “You call the Winchesters.”


	3. Sneak a Peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are off to meet up with Castiel so they can piece together what happened in the first place. And, now that Team Free Will is pack together it's time to figure out what the next step it going to be, but it might be harder this time around than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry. 
> 
> So a little bit of explaining. I really like the idea of Dean swearing because I think he would swear a bunch if it wasn't a CW show. I mean, come on, he hustles poker and drinks beer like it is water. Dean Winchester swears. 
> 
> Also in this chapter I really wanted Castiel to STRUGGLE with human emotions because they would be experienced so much differently with out Grace as a buffer.
> 
> All mistakes are my own because I had to edit this really quickly to get it posted today.

       “Hello, Dean.”

       “Cas? Cas!”, Dean probably sounded more excited than he had meant to, “Where ya been, man?”,He tacked onto the end casually making a show of sticking his hand in his pocket and leaning back against the side of the Impala despite no one around to see him.

       “I’ve been walking.”

       “More like ignoring my phone calls.” Dean was sure he could feel Cas’ tired sigh push against him through the phone.

       “I wasn’t sure what to do. I needed time. This is my fault.”

       “Cas, I need you to stop blaming yourself for this kind of shit.”

       “No, Dean -- Listen.”, but Dean was watching Sam pay for another bag of gas station food and start to head his way.

       “We are outside of Wichita picking up supplies. Where are you?”

       “Dean, I don’t really --”

  
“Come on, Cas we’ve been worried. At least let us try to help you.”

Cas was silent on the other end of the phone and Dean felt a heaviness building inside him, the thought that Castiel might just hang up cross his mind. Sam must have read it on his face because he cocked his head to the side as he approached the Impala, two cans of soda and a plastic bag clutched in his monstrous hands.

“I’m in Denver. We are in Denver.”

“We? Whose --” The phone clicked off the electronic beeping obnoxiously loud in Dean’s ear before Dean tossed the phone with a sharp snap of his wrist. It flew through the rolled down back window of the car and slid across the vinyl seat onto the floor. Sam raised an eyebrow knowing full well that Dean couldn’t not tell him.  

“That was Cas, and before you start all that happy puppy dog thing,” Dean pointed a finger at Sam as he rounded the car to the driver’s side, Sam looked appropriately affronted, “He’s with someone. I bet it’s that Metatron guy. I don’t trust him.”

“Dean, I think if God trusted Metatron enough to tell him, well, everything than we can trust him for eight hours with Cas.”

       “Ha, no. I won’t believe Cas is safe until he with m- us in Baby,” Dean scoffed rolling  his eyes dramatically. Sam bristled, for being a genius at the job his brother was really an idiot.

       “You do realize what you just said.”

       “Don’t even start with that. I think those trials sunk a little too deep into that head of yours.”

       “Whatever, just drive.” The engine roaring to life drowned out the remark Dean made under his breath.

 

* * *

  
  


       Looking back Castiel understood that his reluctance in calling Dean could be attributed to fear. Fear of what he wasn't quite sure, but when Dean and Sam came around the corner of the and into the old diner where they'd agreed to meet Castiel had to force himself to remain seated and not bolt up right and run to embrace him. He smiled at Sam fondly, carefully avoiding looking directly at Dean who slid into the booth seat across from him the sticky vinyl making a ripping sound as it rubbed across his jeans.

     His cheeks were hot and the warmth was beginning to creep up his neck when he heard Joshua beside him clear his throat purposefully,  were his human emotion that apparent? Joshua always did know too much. Schooling his features, with what frail human control that he had, he looked up the two men across from him. The emotions on their face were almost twins, a comforting mixture of curiosity and  happiness that he'd grown used to.

     "Hello..." Castiel’s voice trailed away as Dean's shoulders perked up at the greeting. Was that excitement? Castiel couldn't be sure now that he was so unsure of his own body's reactions. Sam looked between the two and picked up the cheap plastic menu barely covering his face in time to hide a dewy half smile.

       They four spent the next twenty minutes in what could only be described as pleasant company. Joshua made small talk and answered Sam’s questions calmly. Briefly stopping to order, and to listen to Castiel admitting to finding it irritating that he constantly had to get nourishment from food, Joshua entertained entertained every question Sam had about God or if He’d spoken at all until Dean’s patience reached it limit.

       “ Enough about God, I think one flight-risk father was enough for a lifetime.”, he snapped to look at Castiel. Green eyes zeroing in on the man who was still carefully avoiding looking at him directly, rather picking at spot on his forehead and focusing on it, “What happened? It was a little early for the Fourth of July celebration.”

       "Castiel told me what happened with Metatron.", Joshua started smoothly but stopped when Dean's face soured.

      "That's more than we know! One minute I'm running in to get Sam," he stutter and shot his brother a furtive look, "with Cas nowhere to be found! The next Angels are fucking fall from Heaven. What the hell happened Cas? Because if that is what happened when you closed the gates that is some messed up shit."

       "No, that isn't exactly what happened," shame pooled like ink in his chest, here he was again confessing his mistakes to the one man who could bring him to his knees, " Metatron was clever with his plan. He tricked me into helping him with a spell. A spell that cast all of us out."

          Joshua sat numbly beside him nodding in as if he was agreeing.

        "Are you serious? Why? I thought he was trying to help you, ya know, fix all of the fighting up there," Sam shot out quickly, his face a wash of confused betrayal. His emotions were always so visible on his face, Castiel peaked a glance at Joshua to see if he shared that human trait. Joshua’s face was a mask of serenity like it had been for thousands of years for some reason he seemed to have more control over the human form than he himself did.

       “Unfortunately Metatron held a grudge against the Host and was unwilling to see reason.”

       “What can we even be doing up there?”, Dean asked around a mouth full of fries from the plate that had arrived in front of him.

       “I don’t know.” Castiel answered.

       “Heaven takes a ton of you guys to run, right? It’s not like Metatron can just run it by himself.”, Sam asked leaning eagerly toward Joshua.

“Well, no. At least not to my knowledge. The Host at it’s weakest was sixty thousand strong. Not all warrior but various orders of angels who carried out orders from Heaven.”, intoned Cas toward his plate of food.

       Castiel shrugged taking his food, a sandwich of the turkey and cranberry variety, and nibbled at the edge of it. Sense his occupation of this form the only food he’d taken in was an overwhelming amount of hamburgers. Even as Emmanuel he’d felt no hunger. It was a delicious combination of bitter sweet fruit and savory meat, one bite and his stomach ached for more. So unaccustomed to eating regularly Castiel ignored the symptoms of hunger until it was an all consuming need. Now that food was in his hands he held back from devouring it quickly, he refused to succumb to human sensation so easily.

 

       “Like I said, he can’t run it by himself so what is he doing? Sitting upstairs on to Pearly Gate playing solitaire?” Leave it to Dean to make everything into a joke his eyes drifting between Cas and the now silent Joshua. Those dangerous green eyes narrowed as he leaned back against the diner seat causing the vinyl to squeal again and appraised Joshua steadily.

       “You know.” It wasn’t a question and Castiel picked up the tone of mistrust quickly. All eyes focused on Joshua then as the the fallen angel straightened himself and ran his hands down the front of his canvas shirt. An all too human way of expressing discomfort.

       Anger flared up in Castiel as he watched Joshua’s steady movements. He acted so effortlessly and normal that he could have been human while Castiel struggled with every jerky movement. He used to tell his vessel how to move with a half thought now he had to physically assert his will over his body. It was miserable and he felt like every inch of himself was exposed to the world around him. The irritation anger clouded over his eyes and senses so quickly that Castiel had separated himself from the conversation. Swallowing hard to force the anger back down he pretended not to notice the way Dean was listening to Joshua but watching him.

       “-- to create Angels.”

       “Woah woah, how is that even plausible? Isn’t that something exclusively in the ‘God Zone’”

       “Lucifer did it.”, Castiel chirped quickly forcing his input into the open feigning like he’d been present from the beginning.

       “An Arcangel,” Sam clarified, “Metatron is just a seraph like the two of you. No way he has the power to create more angels.”

       Joshua had the grace to look ashamed, “It is highly forbidden, more so procreation in attempt to create nephilim. We don’t even talk about it, he wouldn’t dare.”

       “That son of bitch just pushed all of the Angels from their fluffy cushions and you think that it hasn’t crossed his mind to try and get an army of his own?” Dean was exhausted, it was tangible in his voice. Castiel had no idea what heal, not another impending doom.

       “It’s absurd. What he would end up creating wouldn’t even be angels. They’d be abominations. He’s not strong enough. Besides it is conjecture.”

       “I would try.” Castiel glanced up to see he was not the center of attention. He hated to admit it. Loathed it so much that the realization that he would have tried to take on God’s job to help him run heaven slithered around and constricted his gut, but  he would. Tactically, if he was in Metatron’s position, a position where we would need all the help he could get, he’d try to create -- he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat because he had tried. He’d taken on the leviathans and tried to usurp God.

       “I - we - We have to stop him.” There was no space in the booth for him, Castiel needed to get out. Not just out of this booth, but out of this body. He felt so trapped. Pushing at Joshua’s shoulder he made the older man get up. Castiel was moving towards the back of the restaurant swiftly. His mind was too small again to handle the thoughts that hurdled around inside it. Bursting through the backdoor of the restaurant he practically ran around to the other side of the dumpster and leaned against it. Sinking slowly down his world frayed around the edges and he couldn’t suck in enough hair to steady himself. Each different emotion and thought of self hatred hit him across the face in cold, stinging strikes. In this form Castiel had no choice but to ride the waves of this despair. Without Grace to help sooth and and organize his thought he was a jumble of every guilty memory and mistake that he’d made.

       A hand came to rest on his shoulder. Through his hazy vision he realized Dean was crouching down next to him.

       “This is my fault.” Castiel whispered, his throat sore and dry despite not having said a word.

       “It’s not the first time.”

       Castiel couldn’t stop the bitter grin, “What is happening to me?”

       “A panic attack. I bet it sucks going through emotional puberty in a week.”

       “These aren’t my first emotions, Dean.”, he snapped harshly.

       "Yeah, all humans really have are emotions. Before you had all that Angel mojo and control. Welcome to the mortal world. Shit’s all fucked then you die.” Dean moved so that his he was leaning against the dumpster next to Castiel with a sigh that rumbled from deep within his chest and closed his eyes.

       Just being in his proximity was calming. Dean presented as such a constant steady force, an effect he’d felt before his lost his grace that Castiel wasn’t surprised that his tangled slinky of thoughts swept back under his control like the leaving of the tide.

       Castiel turned to study his companion fully for the first time through human eyes. Without the sign of Dean’s soul he got a clearer picture of the physical. From the near perfect symmetry of his face to the masculine jut of chin Castiel moved his eyes along his body carefully. He wore a red shirt today and Castiel noted that he was quite fond of the way the color looked against his skin as he felt something different begin to stir in him. He raked his eyes over the physical form knowing full well he appreciated the soul that was inside, yet this was different. A more visceral sense of attraction that urged him to reach out and touch. He realized his hand had lifted off the pavement from where it rested when Dean stirred.

       Their eyes met and Dean winked at him that cocky smile seeping across his face easily. Dean pushed himself up from the dirt with a playful slap at Castiel’s thigh. Standing he extended a helping hand to Castiel.

       “Come on, lets go back inside and figure out what we are going to do because I really don’t like the idea of that ass playing in God’s play-doh.”

 


End file.
